


Difference Between Want and Need

by snarkasaurus



Series: Affliction of the Feeling [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, Dominance, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, Submission, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:37:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkasaurus/pseuds/snarkasaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started as an accident. Isaac has to learn the difference between want and need. He also has to learn how to ask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Difference Between Want and Need

**Author's Note:**

> Written for jynx and vaidah, for putting up with me trying to flail myself toward a coherent fic. 
> 
> This series presupposes the following: 
> 
> 1) College is a thing that happened, and everyone’s back in Beacon Hills, working in their chosen field of expertise, but the humans went to different colleges than the wolves, by personal choice (and I assume financial aid offerings).   
> 2) A relationship pre-exists between the three of them, as well as Derek and Stiles, Derek and Isaac, and Isaac and Stiles, all three of a sexual nature, but all three very different. They do get explored more in fic.   
> 3) Everything post-season two gets ignored (because this is getting written prior to season three airing...), and any previously released spoilers or teasers are also ignored. Everything is AU from that point.

The way it started was an accident. Well. It was a conscious thought preceding an accident, leading to deliberate choice and conversation, but the trigger was an accident. Stiles was sprawled on the couch at Derek’s place, his head in Derek’s lap, Isaac stretched out across Stiles with his head on Stiles’ chest. They were watching Monty Python, because it made Isaac and Stiles laugh, and Derek smile, and that was enough for the other two, at two a.m. Insomnia was no one’s friend, but it was July, so Stiles was on break, Derek never needed much sleep, and Isaac set his own hours, because somehow, he’d wound up a bestselling author. 

So they were there, draped all over each other, and Isaac had been picking at the thread at the hem of Stiles’ shirt. It was one of Stiles’ favorites, and he didn’t really want it ruined. It was impossible to replace a favorite shirt. You could get the exact same brand, size, color, and it would never be the same shirt. “Knock it off,” he murmured, not looking at Isaac, and was pleased when Isaac’s fingers stilled. 

Five minutes later, though, they were picking again. “Isaac, I mean it. Leave it alone.”

Stiles waited. Isaac had been doing this a lot lately, starting back up on things that he’d been asked to stop. He didn’t do it all the time, but when he did, there as a look in his eye that Stiles couldn’t remember seeing before. He wanted to know if this was going to be one of those times. 

It was. Fingers started plucking at the loose thread again. Stiles slid his hand into Isaac’s hair, and tightened. He was careful to do it just enough to catch Isaac’s attention, but not so much that Isaac would be hurt. “I said, leave my shirt alone,” he said. His voice was firm and sharp, a pattern he’d fallen out of once he came back to Beacon Hills, but found himself falling right back into it just as easily. 

Isaac stilled under his hand. He let out a soft sound, something like a whimper, but there was a little bit of a needy sound to it. Stiles blinked. Really? He would have thought... “Isaac, go upstairs and take a shower. Be thorough, and get completely clean, _everywhere_. When you’re done, spread yourself out face down on the bed, and don’t move.” 

It was a gamble, and Stiles knew it, but it was one he was willing to take, if it calmed Isaac down. He met Isaac’s questioning gaze with a stern one of his own, doing his best to keep his heart rate steady. 

The staring contest didn’t last more than ten seconds before Isaac was rolling off Stiles and heading upstairs. Stiles held his breath until the shower came on, and he could hear the curtain close, and then let himself flop backwards for a moment. His head, already resting in Derek’s lap, tilted farther back so that he could see Derek’s face. What he saw was...interesting. 

“What are you doing?” Derek asked him, frowning a little. 

“Giving Isaac what he needs,” Stiles said, studying Derek’s face. “He doesn’t know it, but he’s been itching and twitching because he needs someone to tell him what to do.” Did he imagine that little flicker? “We both know that Isaac is submissive by nature. I think it’s finally manifesting into something I can do something about.”

Derek’s frown deepened a little. “Stiles, are you sure? I don’t think smacking him around is the answer.” 

Stiles sat up and spun on the couch so he was sitting cross legged next to Derek. “Let’s get one thing straight right now. You? I would smack around, as you put it. That’s the kind of submission you need. You need control taken from you, but in order to get it from you, I would need to take you down hard. Isaac, on the other hand, needs a much more gentle touch. His submission is all emotional and mental. Getting him to accept the attention will be the challenge.” 

“How do you know all of this?” Derek asked. Stiles wasn’t sure if that was concern or interest on his face. With Derek, it was sometimes hard to tell. 

“IN college, it came up in my human sexuality course. There was a girl there that noticed my interest and took me with her to a meeting, called a munch. I learned a lot from them, including that I’m a dominant, and that I enjoy most aspects of BDSM.” Stiles decided that that was interest. Definitely interest. This honestly didn’t surprise him because he had largely determined already that Derek was a submissive. He was a beta forced to be an alpha, and part of him still craved to give in to someone, to put the control in someone else’s hands. 

There was silence for a little while, which Stiles let Derek have. This was a lot to process. He was waiting out Isaac anyway--still in the shower, good--so waiting out Derek wasn’t a problem. 

“You said you’d take me down harder,” Derek said slowly. “What would you do?”

Stiles’ cock twitched in his shorts, and he was momentarily glad he was in his lounging clothes, or his pants would be incredibly uncomfortable. “I’d start by chaining you down,” he said, his voice slipping into the deeper, calmer cadence that Master James had beaten into him. Fortunately, not literally. He’d seen the bruises on Sadie’s back when she’d failed her lesson. Not that Sadie had minded; on the contrary, she’d been so blissed out and pleased when Stiles asked her about them, Stiles was pretty sure she’d done it on purpose. Still, if anyone was going to do that to Stiles, it would be one of his pack, not anyone else. 

“I’d use padded manacles, and iron chains. Your arms would be a part, far enough that you couldn’t get any leverage, and you’d be facing the wall. I’d start with a flogger, a suede one. They’re thuddy, and it would warm up your muscles. Then I’d switch to a crop. They sting, even for you. I’d cycle through a few different tools, I think, maybe a cat o’ nine, maybe a paddle. The thing is, Derek, I’ve known you for ten years. I know that you hurt just as much as we humans do. The biggest difference is, you heal. You heal fast and clean, which takes the pain with it, so my job would be to make sure you felt it.”

Derek’s pupils were blown wide already, and Stiles could see how much his words were affecting his alpha. He liked intensely knowing that he was the one doing this, but upstairs, the water shut off. There was something more important to focus on right now. Derek may want him, but Isaac needed him. 

“I’m going upstairs, and I am going to take care of Isaac. You can watch, and you can participate if you promise to listen to everything I say, do what I tell you, and nothing else. If you can’t abide by those rules, stay down here.” Stiles got up, then, and turned to go upstairs. He didn’t stay to watch Derek, see if he would listen. There were more important things than a Hale’s internal struggles. He wasn’t halfway up the stairs before he heard them creaking behind him, though, and he smiled to himself. Sometimes, it was almost too easy. 

He entered the bedroom with its massive bed, and smiled to himself, pleased to see Isaac already settling in, face down as he’d been told. He looked at Derek. “Find the sound cancelling headphones, and a thick but soft cloth, at least two feet long. Bring them back here and you can sit on the bed by Isaac, and touch his head, but nothing else.” 

He went into the bathroom for some supplies, listening to Isaac shifting around on the bed. Stiles knew he was going to have to come up with some rules for them, and fast. He wasn’t worried about a true safe word just yet because he wasn’t going to do anything overly dramatic. Push at Isaac’s boundaries a little bit, but mostly, just _set_ some. He bit his lip as he stared into the linen closet, and grabbed an extra tube of lubricant, just in case. He was pretty sure the one in the drawer was still half full, but he’d rather have too much than not enough. 

Arms laden with towels, lube, massage oil, and an extra strip of condoms, Stiles came back out to see Derek stretched out on the bed next to Isaac. He was pleased to see that the only place was Derek was touching Isaac was his head...and completely entertained to note that it was mostly because they were kissing each other. 

“Started without me, I see?” Stiles said, causing them both to start and jump apart. Isaac looked guilty, and Derek looked defiant. “Oh, knock it off, you’re not in trouble. I didn’t tell you couldn’t do that, and you were within the bounds I set you, so stop pouting.” He dropped the towels onto the nightstand, and set the rest of the supplies on the bed. 

“So here are the rules tonight,” Stiles said, peeling his shirt off. “If we do this again, we’re all going to sit down and talk this out, but for tonight, this is how we play it. Derek, you _will_ listen to my instructions. If you fail to obey, you will get one warning. You fail again, you’re out of the room for the night, is that clear?” His voice was again in that commanding, deep tone. At Derek’s startled nod, Stiles turned his attention to Isaac. “We’re going to operate on the stoplight system. Green means you’re good, we keep going. Yellow means you need me to slow down or pause whatever it is I’m doing. Red means stop, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Whatever is happening stops right then, the whole thing ends, no harm, no foul, except we’ll talk about why you stopped it. Understand so far?”

Isaac watched him, wide eyed, head turned as far as he could go, but he nodded. He didn’t flip over in order to see better. He looked like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. 

“Good. If your mouth is incapacitated, use your hand. One finger is green, two is yellow, and three is red. Understand?” He waited, watching Isaac expectantly. 

“Green means good. One finger is green. Yellow means slow down or I need a break. Two fingers for yellow. Red means stop, stop now, I can’t do this, and it’s three fingers.” Isaac took a deep shuddering breath. “What about if I like it?” 

“Then you’re green and we keep going. Now, if I’ve done something to make it so you can’t hear, I’ll ask you how you are like this.” Stiles reached down and tapped a quick rhythm against Isaac’s side: three short taps, a pause, two short taps, a pause, and three more short taps. What do you do when you feel that?”

Tell you green, yellow, or red,” Isaac said with a hitch in his voice. “Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of right this second,” Stiles said. He finished stripping, and settled astride Isaac’s hips, right on his ass. “You are mine tonight, baby boy. You’re going to give me what I ask for, and you’re going to give it up so sweetly. Derek’s right here with us to help you, help me, help us. I’m not going to hurt you, Isaac,” and he watched some of the tension bleed out of Isaac’s shoulders. “This isn’t about hurting you. This is about making you let go and making you focus on yourself.”

Isaac whimpered and closed his eyes. 

“Derek, please tie that cloth around Isaac’s eyes,” Stiles ordered gently, and reached for the bottle of massage oil. It was intended for use on the wolves after they’d been in a fight and gotten torn up, to help ease the tense, newly healed muscles, but it would do for now. He poured a small puddle into his hands, and rubbed them together after setting the bottle down next to his knee. He put those hands on Isaac’s lower back and slid the up, pressing with the right amount of pressure to start working away the tension. 

Stiles kept his movements slow and even, watching Derek nose gently at Isaac’s temple, whispering in his ear. He didn’t know what Derek was saying--normal human hearing couldn’t decipher the words--but he watched Isaac’s reaction, and knew that it was somehow enough. He began putting a little more pressure into his long sweeping strokes, and then started focusing on the knotted up shoulders. 

“We love you, Isaac,” he said quietly, interrupting Derek. “Whatever else you may doubt, whatever is going on in that head, know that we love you.” 

“He’s right,” Derek whispered. “I know I fought you, fought you both, when this started, but part of it was that I loved you, and I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m in this now, though. I love you, and I’m not leaving you.” 

Isaac let out a shuddering breath. Stiles suspected that there were tears slowly dampening the scarf covering his eyes. “I know,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too, and tonight, we’re going to prove it to you. You’ll accept this, and you’re going to learn how to ask.” Stiles found a knot, and began working it, coaxing it to release and give up its hold. “You need to learn to ask for what you want, Isaac. You’re in this as much as we are, and that means you are entitled to as much. You have to ask, though, because we don’t always know what you want. We can’t always guess at what’s going through your mind.” 

Isaac grunted, and turned his head so that his face was pressed into the pillow. Derek gave Stiles a worried look, but Stiles shook his head. Isaac was okay. He was processing, and he was scared at the moment, but he was okay. He considered for a moment, and jerked his head at Derek. “Come here,” he said softly, sitting upright and picking up the bottle of oil. 

Derek shuffled around until he was kneeling next to Isaac’s ribs. “What?” he asked warily, but Stiles could already see the need to please shining through. _Sometimes, I wonder why it took me so long to figure out that you were in love with me. You’re so damned obvious_ he thought to himself. 

“You’re going to take over,” he said, lifting Derek’s hands and puddling a little more oil in them. “Get rid of all the tension, and make him melt.” Stiles slid off Isaac’s body once Derek had started, and grabbed a towel to take the worst of the oil off his hands. He watched for a moment, pleased at the sure, even strokes of Derek’s hands, the way he seemed to find the perfect spots that were sore and taut, and work them down to nothing but smooth muscle. 

Once he was sure Derek and Isaac were okay doing what they were doing, he settled himself between Isaac’s legs and gently pushed them apart. 

“Isaac, what color?” he asked, gently rubbing his hand over Isaac’s ass. He was soft and careful in the way he squeezed and massaged, hinting to his lover where he was going. 

“Green,” Isaac breathed out softly. “Stiles, I...”

“What, Isaac?”

“I...are you sure you want to--” he cut off with a sharp inhale when Stiles lightly tapped one cheek. It barely raised a pink mark, and certainly didn’t do more than barely sting for a moment or two. 

“This is not about what I want, Isaac, this is about what you want, and I know that you love this. Stop,” Stiles said firmly. “And if you use red to get out of this because you think this isn’t what _we_ want, I will tie you down to the bed in your room, and I will fuck Derek in here until he’s screaming so loud that they can hear him in town, and you won’t be able to do anything but listen.”

Derek and Isaac both inhaled sharply at that threat, but Stiles could see that Isaac understood why Stiles was saying this. The sudden relaxation of all the muscles that had tensed up when Stiles had settled in and started touching gave him away. “Good boy,” Stiles said. He gently pushed part Isaac’s ass cheeks the last little bit and lowered his head until he could drag his tongue over the slightly flexing hole. 

Isaac gasped quietly, and Derek made a soft whining sound in his throat. Stiles flicked his eyes up, and saw Derek watching him, heat in his eyes. He smirked inwardly, and kept going, teasing Isaac and Derek in two completely different ways. 

He gently pressed his tongue inside, moving slow and steady, in the pace he wanted, instead of what Isaac’s hips were trying to force him to do. The point of this was to get Isaac to verbalize his desires. Getting him to ask for what he wanted, because he never asked. Stiles gently fucked him open with just his tongue, letting Derek wok away the tension, counting on both of their touches to break down Isaac’s defenses. 

It took far longer than Stiles had anticipated to even break a whimper from Isaac. Stiles had stretched and fucked and sucked and nibbled until Isaac was loose and open, ready for at least fingers. His jaw was sore, but he was determined. Isaac needed this, and he could give this to him. He could carefully break Isaac open and pull this from him, show him that it was okay to ask. He wouldn’t be hurt for asking. 

“Stiles,” Isaac moaned, making Stiles look up and pause what he was doing. 

“Isaac? What color?” 

“Green...Stiles, I need...” Isaac whimpered and tried to rock his hips back. 

Stiles was a little frustrated, more with himself than with Isaac. “Wrong answer, baby boy,” he said quietly, lowering his mouth again to tease Isaac a little bit longer. Isaac’s soft cries were tugging at Stiles’ stomach, at his cock, but he resolutely ignored them. “I want to know what you _want_ , not what you need. I know what you need, and I’ll give it to you, when I’m ready...unless you ask for what you want.” 

Isaac’s sob nearly broke him. Stiles steeled himself, though; this was what being a dominant was about. Knowing what your submissive needed and being able to hold strong in order to give it to him was so important, was the basis of all of this. In practice, though...this was new. Stiles had experience. He’d learned more than just how to wield his voice or a flogger. He’d learned how to read a submissive’s actions, what they didn’t say vocally but said with their bodies. 

He’d learned all that, but none of it was with anyone he had cared about. No one he loved. Not to the depth and breadth that he loved Isaac and Derek. Stiles still didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it coming. They had blindsided him, and sometimes, he was left breathless by the whole thing. This, though... this here made him want to hide, want to weep with joy, run with fear, marvel at how much trust was being placed in him. 

He looked up the length of Isaac’s body, and noticed that Derek had stopped. He was nuzzling and kissing Isaac, and Stiles frowned. “Derek,” he snapped, his voice cracking in the air. He was gratified, and a little surprised if he was honest with himself, to see Derek snap backwards, looking at Stiles with surprised, wide eyes. “I didn’t tell you to stop massaging, nor did I tell you that you were allowed to nuzzle and kiss Isaac. That’s your one chance, is that clear?”

Derek frowned. “But he--” 

“Derek, I am in charge. You didn’t object to the rules when we started, you don’t get to object now unless you’re the one that uses red, and leaves.” Stiles stared him down, which was kind of hard because his mouth was still six inches from Isaac’s ass. Still. He was in charge. 

Derek growled, obviously fighting with himself. He was the alpha, he was the one in charge, and had been for the last ten years. To give it up to Stiles was visibly hard for him to do. His eyes flashed red for a brief moment, which looked a little odd around the blown pupil, Stiles noticed, but then visibly fought himself back under control. “It’s clear,” he said, and put his hands back on Isaac’s back.

Stiles nodded his approval, and went back to teasing Isaac open. He worked his tongue into Isaac’s ass, as deep as it could go, curling it and pressing and stretching. He just wished he could reach Isaac’s prostate this way. 

“Stiles,” Isaac whined. “Please, fuck me. Please.”

Closer, but not quite there. “You have to say the words, Isaac. You need to tell me what you want. That’s your lesson, this time. Asking for what you want.” 

Isaac whined again, and Derek’s hands smoothed over his back gently, soothing and gentle. It took Isaac another five minutes, more whimpers and whines, and Stiles tongue starting to actually go numb before he burst out, “I want it! Stiles, fuck me, please, I want you to fuck me. I want Derek’s cock in my mouth and I want you to fuck me, and I want to feel like you’ve got me between you and you’re never going to let me go, oh god, _please_.” 

“There it is,” Stiles said, and pushed himself up, nodding Derek out of the way, and laid himself across Isaac’s back, kissing him. It was an awkward angle, but Isaac groaned into it, rocking his ass against Stiles’ cock. 

“Please, Stiles, I want it,” Isaac begged. He was still blinded by his scarf, but he was following their movements well. Werewolf senses, man. What a trip. 

“On your hands and knees,” Stiles told him, kissing him one last time. “Take your time getting there. We’ll give you what you want.” He levered himself off the bed and stretched. 

He looked over at Derek, and smiled, pleased that Derek hadn’t immediately started stripping. He was taking this seriously. “Undressed,” he said, coming close and hooking Derek around the back of the neck. His final growth spurt, right as he entered his twenties had left him about an inch taller than Derek, so he had to duck just the slightest bit, but he didn’t mind. Kissing Derek was a delight, always, but somehow, was so much better right now. 

“You can kiss him, but I want your cock in his mouth by the time I’m sliding into him,” Stiles said. He grinned at Derek’s needy growl, and kissed him again. When he let the alpha go, Derek peeled off his shirt and shoved down his jeans. 

Stiles laughed to himself and took his time getting back on the bed, opening the lube, preparing a condom. He needed the time to catch his breath, get himself together. This was intense. He loved it, and he wouldn’t trade it, and in fact, he was hoping they could do this more, because watching them break apart would be amazing. But this... he took a deep breath, and rolled the condom on so that he’d be ready. They might be werewolves and ridiculously healthy, but he was still human, and he didn’t really want something mundane like a UTI. 

He slicked his fingers, looking up to see Derek running his fingers through Isaac’s hair while Isaac mouthed gently at the head of his cock. They were so fucking gorgeous. “Isaac, what color?” 

“Green. Stiles, please I want...Just lube yourself, and maybe a little for me? Don’t stretch me anymore, though.” Isaac turned and looked back, or at least would have been looking, if he could see. 

“What color if it’s too much?” Stiles asked, sliding his hand down Isaac’s back. 

“Yellow or red,” Isaac breathed, turning back and swallowing Derek down. 

Stiles groaned, and did as Isaac asked, but compromising with his instinct by slathering himself thickly. He used the rest on his fingers, and slid two of them gently into Isaac just to make sure he was lubed. Isaac’s moan, and Derek’s subsequent curse fizzled down Stiles’ spine, and he nudged right up behind Isaac. 

He lined himself up, and pressed in, only going slow enough that he didn’t flat out tear Isaac. Isaac’s hiss as Stiles’ hips pressed against his ass had Stiles’ freezing. “Color?”

“...yellow,” Isaac panted. His back was tense, and Derek had his head resting against his stomach, petting his hair gently. 

Stiles stroked his back rhythmically, trying to soothe. “Easy, baby boy. Easy. You can take it. I know you can.” 

Isaac took deep breaths, and consciously relaxed himself; Stiles could see it. He kept petting, until Isaac nodded, and nuzzled at the base of Derek’s cock again before letting his alpha slide his cock back into Isaac’s willing mouth. Stiles took that as his sign that the necessary pause was over, took a good grip on Isaac’s hips, and started to thrust slowly. 

He was careful to keep his rhythm slow for a little while, because dammit, he was the one in control, and while he fully intended to fuck Isaac insensate, he was going to do it on his terms. Stiles’ eyes roamed up Isaac’s back, over his head, across Derek’s torso, and up to almost fully black eyes. He was started to realize how intently Derek was watching him. The look was the most intense one he’d ever seen from Derek. 

“What color, Derek?” Stiles asked, wondering if he’d gone too far with his other boyfriend. The flare of lust in Derek’s eyes, and the growled, “Green,” told him that he hadn’t, that Derek was just being his usual intense self. “Good,” he said, and shifted his grip on Isaac’s hips until he was holding tightly 

He sped up his thrusts, long strokes that rubbed over Isaac’s prostate with every drag of Stiles’ cock. It wasn’t long before Isaac was moaning around Derek, and Derek was cursing rather creatively. Stiles wondered how he had the brainpower for it. 

“So pretty,” he said, reaching around to stroke Isaac’s cock. He had a plan forming in his head, but getting to it was going to take some more willpower on his part. He hoped he could carry it off. 

Isaac moaned around Derek’s cock, making Derek moan in return. HIs fingers carded through Isaac’s hair, and Stiles watched avidly. The two of them were gorgeous together, and one of Stiles’ favorite pastimes was just to watch. There was nothing bad with the watching. He usually came just as hard that way. 

Stiles kept stroking Isaac’s cock, until he felt Isaac start to tense, his breath stutter and catch, and then Stiles clamped down hard at the base of Isaac’s cock, preventing him from orgasming.

The wail of protest erupted from around Derek’s cock, and Stiles smirked a little bit at the groaned that dragged from Derek. “You don’t get to come,” Stiles said, still fucking Isaac. “Not until you do what you know you’re supposed to.”

Isaac was silent, and Stiles watching the set of his shoulders carefully. He felt, somehow, that Isaac was teetering on the brink of a precipice. The wrong move or the wrong thing said would send this spinning out of control. He rolled his hips, releasing Isaac’s cock, now that the tension of immediate orgasm was past, and started building it up again. 

Derek watched Stiles as carefully as Stiles was watching Isaac; Stiles could feel it. He couldn’t focus on that, though, other than to glance every now and then to make sure that Derek was following the rules. He had to keep his attention on Isaac, Isaac’s posture, his reaction, his... Stiles tightened his fingers again, denying Isaac a second orgasm. 

“Yellow!” Isaac cried, a sob in his voice. “Stiles, why?” 

“Because you have to ask for what you want,” Stiles said, hips still, pressed against Isaac’s ass. His free hand rubbed Isaac’s shoulders gently; other hand still clamped tight, preventing orgasm. “You want to come, right? You have to ask for it.” 

“But...” Isaacs’s breath hitched, and his head rested against Derek’s abdomen. Derek’s hands joined Stiles’ in rubbing Isaac’s shoulders soothingly. “I need to come.”

“I know you do. This isn’t about what you need. I already told you. This is about what you want.” 

Isaac whimpered, but didn’t say anything. Stiles wondered if he’d misread things, if he’d pushed too far after all. It was hard, doing this with someone that you loved so much. He was about to call the whole thing off, when Isaac spoke again. 

“Please, Stiles. Please...I want to come. Let me come, please?”

“Of course, baby boy,” Stiles said, relieved and turned on all at the same time. He started thrusting again, letting the force of his movements drive Isaac’s cock into the circle of his hands. “Do you want Derek to come down your throat? On your face? Across your back?” he prompted. This was Isaac’s first foray into this. He could give clues. Should have been giving more, he now realized. 

Isaac’s breath hitched, and he lapped at the head of Derek’s cock. “Come down my throat,” he said, and then swallowed Derek down again. 

Stiles watched Derek’s head fall back, the long line created by the exposed throat, down the chest, the arms, the fingers buried in Isaac’s hair again. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight, but somehow, it meant so much more tonight. He fucked harder, deeper and longer thrusts designed to bring Isaac off as fast as possible, and himself, too. He desperately needed to come. The only reason he’d held off this long was because of his focus on Isaac. 

Derek went first. His body stiffened, his mouth opening in a silent cry--he never made much noise. Stiles was going to have to work on that--as he spilled into Isaac’s mouth. The sight made Stiles shudder with need and fuck Isaac that much harder. Isaac tensed, whimpering as he swallowed around Derek, and Stiles’ fingers were bathed in slick semen. 

Stiles groaned, and buried himself deep in Isaac’s ass, spilling into the condom. He shuddered with each pulse, the strength of his orgasm surprising him a little. He took a deep breath, working to keep control of himself long enough to see this through, however much he wanted to collapse onto Isaac’s back, carry them both down to the mattress, and sleep. 

He felt a warm hand on his cheek, and looked up to find Derek leaning in. Stiles smiled and kissed him. “Get yourself cleaned up,” he ordered gently, and then held the base of the condom while he pulled out of Isaac. 

Isaac’s whimper and trembling made Stiles work fast to dispose of the condom and wipe him up with a clean cloth. He cleaned himself up cursorily, and then carefully worked the blindfold’s knot open. “Easy,” he said soothingly, dropping the cloth on the side table, and pulling back the covers. “Under, baby boy, that’s it...” 

Stiles coaxed and cajoled, getting Isaac to move and shift and eventually get all the way under the covers. He slid in next to him, and immediately had his arms full of clingy, needy werewolf. He soothed with long, gentle strokes down Isaac’s back as Derek moved the rest of the towels off the bed, including the one that had found its way under Isaac and caught the few drips that hadn’t wound up smeared over Stiles’ hand or Isaac’s skin. 

Derek crawled under the covers from the other side of the bed, and plastered himself against Isaac’s back. He nuzzled the back of Isaac’s neck, which made Isaac give a rusty hum of pleasure. 

“So...scene’s over. Back to normal,” Stiles said carefully after a few minutes of silent pets and cuddles. “Are you okay, Isaac?” 

Isaac didn’t answer right away, but it was a contemplative silence. Stiles kind of thought Isaac was taking mental stock of how he felt and comparing it to what he was thinking. “I’m good,” he said finally. “Really good. Like...kind of stupid good. I didn’t...expect to feel like this.” 

Stiles was pleased. Isaac hadn’t dropped into subspace or anything. That much had been obvious, and he hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t done anything to facilitate it, other than take control, and make Isaac actually respond and vocalize his desires. What he was feeling, though, was a good sign, that Stiles had done the right thing for Isaac, and that Isaac had responded right. Right for him. “Good,” he said, kissing Isaac slowly and deeply. 

Derek murmured agreement. “You can always ask for what you want,” he said into Isaac’s shoulder. “You _should_ ask for it.” 

Isaac ended his kiss with Stiles and buried his face in Stiles’ chest for a moment. “I know,” he murmured, voice a little muffled. “It’s hard, though. I want to make you both happy, feel good, please you...I get what I need, so it seems greedy to ask for what I want.” 

“I can understand that, up to a point,” Stiles said, still stroking Isaac. “But this is equal. All three of us, Isaac.” 

Isaac sighed. “I know. I do, I promise. We wouldn’t have lasted this long if I didn’t know that, right?”

“He has a point,” Derek murmured, looking over his shoulder at Stiles. 

“Yup, he does, and I agree. I’m just trying to make sure that you know you can ask for what you want.” Stiles thought for a moment, letting his rhythmic stroking of Isaac soothe himself as much as it soothed Isaac. “Derek, did you like it?”

Derek watched Stiles careful; Stiles could see it in his eyes. “Like you taking control?” he asked neutrally. 

“Yes.” 

“I think you’re going to have to do something like what you were describing earlier in order to get it again, but...I think I’d be okay with that,” Derek said. He shifted, and by the way Isaac let out a shuddery little sigh, there was at least a little interest of a physical nature making itself known. 

“Isaac? Do you want to do something like this again?” Stiles asked, instead of addressing Derek’s statement directly. 

“I...” Isaac hesitated. Again, Stiles felt like they were on a precipice, an inch from going in an irrevocable direction, whatever that fall might be. “I do. I want to do this again.” 

Stiles let out a long slow breath. “Then in the morning, we’re all going to have a very long talk. For now...sleep.”

So, it started with an accident. It didn’t stay that way.


End file.
